Zohar saw tears twinkling in her eyes and wondered why, but more importantly, he needed to know what she meant. “And what’s that?”
“You need to let me in,” she whispered, dropping her head to place a soft kiss on the back of his hand. “I can help you. That’s why she’s sent you to me.”
His internal battle carried on, his guts twisting, blood pumping, as Maisy gazed up at him. Zohar couldn’t allow himself to believe that she was his. It was beyond belief that something so fragile and beautiful was for him. No. It couldn’t be true. His jaw clenched as he ground out, “I’m not convinced. I need time to think.”
Maisy rocked back on her heels, eyes widened for a moment before she rose, glaring at him. “Fine! Run away and think.”
Zohar shot to his feet, backing toward the door quickly. Maisy snorted at his actions. “Is the mighty Enforcer scared of me? Oh, and by the way, whenever I say fine—just so you know, that is never good, because things are most definitely not fine. But you obviously need someone to knock some sense into that skull of yours and trust me, Zohar, if you don’t come find me later . . . that someone might just be me.”
He watched in amazement as Maisy stomped away, disappearing through a door which she slammed so hard it shook in its hinges. Damn. She had some balls talking to him like that. Nobody spoke to him in that manner, most everyone was too scared of him to dare to speak to him in such a way. Well, not if they didn’t want him to retaliate with his trademark fury.
Zohar shook his head, amazed at her outburst before he left, her words tumbling around in his brain faster and faster until his head ached. His feet stepping one in front of the other with no heed to where they took him . . . until Danko’s voice halted him as if he’d been drenched with a bucket of icy water.
“For fuck’s sake, Zohar, what the hell are you doing out here? You should be with Maisy and you damn well know it. Your head is thicker than that damn ancient oak tree over there.”
Zohar glared at his friend, as he snarled, “What is it about my head that has people commenting on it this morning?”
Danko stopped in front of him, sneering. “I assume by ‘people’ that Maisy said something similar? Hmm, sounds to me like she’s smart and not afraid of you. Now that, my thick-headed friend, should tell you more than anything I can say. Don’t you think?”
Zohar pushed away Danko’s finger that was prodding his chest. “Perhaps, or maybe there’s something wrong with her. The way she just spoke to me makes me wonder if she has a death-wish.”
Laughter bubbled out of Danko’s mouth, his hands on his hips as he bent over. The sight growing Zohar’s already foul mood exponentially. “Shut it, Danko. It’s not that funny.”
“Yeah, yeah it is. Little Maisy telling the mighty Zohar off, hell, that sure is funny.”
Zohar side-stepped around his Second in Command, growling, “We have work to do. Did you find anything of interest at the warehouse?”
Danko caught up, a shit-eating grin on his face. “Sure did. Old Jermaine had his safe back in that locked room and I managed to open it. I didn’t even get to use any explosives. It was an old model that I had open in no time at all. It’s full of cash, and I mean full. There’s enough to get the Pack back on its feet with a ton left over. There’s also stacks of supplies, food, clothing and everything in between. Jacinthe is already organizing handing out basics to the Pack and after that we’ll redo the stock-take, but what do you want to do about the cash? I don’t feel comfortable with that lying around.”
Zohar had to agree. “It will be too much of a temptation for Jermaine, either he’ll come for it or try and hire some rogues to get it for him. It’s best we sort that first and get the word out that there’s no cash here. We need to find out if there are any Pack bank accounts, if not then we get a couple opened as soon as possible.”
“I can do that,” Danko replied quickly. “I can use the Council’s network if there aren’t any, but there must be at least one. A Pack this old can’t be without some basic banking facilities. Gwenola should be able to help me and . . .”
Danko stopped talking, frowning as Zohar prodded. “What?”
“If Gwenola’s right and that cash came from, well, not exactly legal means, then the bank might not be willing to accept it.”
Zohar shrugged. “That’s not a problem, just pay it into one of the Council’s accounts and then have it transferred to the Pack’s. Once you’ve determined if the Pack has an account first, if not, get the Council to set one up and transfer the funds after they’ve done it. No bank will refuse money being deposited into one of the Council’s accounts.”
Danko thumped Zohar’s shoulder. “That’s why you’re in charge and not me. I wouldn’t have thought of that. Instead I would be sitting on the cash worrying about how to get rid of it.”
Zohar’s mind wandered as Maisy’s luscious scent flew toward him, however, it was tinged with another aroma . . . one he was well acquainted with: anger.
She flounced passed, refusing to look in his direction, Danko looking between them before he shouted. “Hey, Maisy, you all right?”
Maisy’s response was to throw a filthy look over her shoulder as she sped toward the forest.
“Damn,” Danko said, shaking his head. “You’ve upset her. I’ll take care of business, Zohar. You need to go and try and talk to her some more.”
Zohar’s beast whined pitifully in his head as he stared as Maisy stomped away. “I’m not sure it’ll help.”
“Try,”
